Translation New Song for Bu Bu Jing Qing – Fine Dust by Jia Jia 尘埃

Damn You, BBJQ, you just have to have pretty songs. I’ve attached two versions. One of them describes the love triangle in BBJQ (though it’s not with Nicky but with the new face of the reincarnated eighth prince…. yeah, sounds as bad as it was writing it). I still don’t really care for the story but Jia Jia makes lovely ballads, and I never get tired of her songs. The official (and prettier) music video from Jia Jia is below. So here you go. Translations of the song below.

Stars are lingering still, on this ocean of clouds
Waiting for the Sun to tire and leave
I too linger in this nebulous place
Waiting, for you to tire and return

Only when the sky turns dark, will there be brilliance
Only then it will reveal the existence of weakness
I am like the star that revolves around you, thousands of miles away

The white cloud always relies on the blue sky
As does my love exists because of you do
Even if you don’t comprend my sadness and my waiting for you

My love is like fine dust, scattered on the border of this land
I no longer hope or await for anyone, can this be in itself, a kind of freedom?
And the promise, like dust, is relentlessly buried by time.
Who still remembers that confession of love under heavy rain?

Time passes by too fast, Love needs to be done without reserve
Even if it means being hurt, rather that than feeling nothing
Everyone wants to be loved tenderly and find their own future
and not linger in the state of loneliness

(Repeat)

Only when the sky turns dark, will there be brilliance
Only then it will reveal the existence of weakness
I am like the star that revolves around you, thousands of miles away

The white cloud always relies on the blue sky
As does my love exists because of you do
Even if you don’t comprehend my sadness and my waiting for you

My love is like fine dust, scattered on the border of this land
I no longer hope or await for anyone, can this be in itself, a kind of freedom?
And the promise, like dust, is relentlessly buried by time.
Who still remembers that confession of love under heavy rain?

My love is like fine dust, scattered on the border of this land
I no longer hope or await for anyone, can this be in itself, a kind of freedom?
And the promise, like dust, is relentlessly buried by time.
Who still remembers that confession of love under heavy rain?

Who still remembers that confession of love under heavy rain?

Everyone wants to be loved tenderly and find their own future
and not linger in the state of loneliness